


vitrify the scattered pieces

by kornevable



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Family, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Friendship, Gen, Glenn Fraldarius Lives, Relationship Study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:33:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23947726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kornevable/pseuds/kornevable
Summary: There are many reasons Glenn never sent a word of his survival. He’s daydreamed of this reunion every time he was left alone with his thoughts, the number of these moments increasing with each passing day, week, month. In the end, he did nothing, and the reasons grew into excuses.Glenn returns; there is a long way to go. / FE3H siblings week.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Glenn Fraldarius
Comments: 18
Kudos: 111
Collections: FE3H Siblings Week





	1. reunion - the smell of grief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> This is a chaptered fic written for FE3H siblings week, each chapter being a prompt; day 1 is "reunion". The story is set in the Blue Lions route but the fic itself is mostly moments between battles, centering around Felix & Glenn with the occasional appearance of other students.
> 
> Enjoy!

Glenn supposes he deserved everything coming at him faster than a sniper’s arrow. It hurts, like an old wound reopened, but it’s probably nothing compared to the pain etched on the kids’ faces.

“Are you… Glenn Fraldarius?”

The woman with bright green hair is looking at him like _she_ ’s the one who came back from the dead, her empty eyes assessing him while seeming at the same time not to really care about what she will find. Glenn has never been really good at reading people, but he would recognize the gaze of a fighter anywhere.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s me.”

His gaze moves about, unable to quite make eye contact with anyone while Dimitri is still acting like he’s not here—some days Dimitri knows he’s not dead, but more often than not he believes he’s talking to a ghost. Maybe he should have tried harder to act like a human being instead of simply hovering and repeating things will be alright.

One of the girls, the one with short orange hair who hasn’t stopped staring at him during their fight against the bandits, gasps and brings a hand to her mouth. She most likely didn’t mean to be so obvious, as she quickly shrinks on herself and tries to disappear behind her friend, who has a fragile smile on her face as she observes him. The boy with the freckles also looks like he wants to unabashedly stare, but all he does is shifting from one foot to another. Glenn would have laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation were he not the most ridiculous one.

He’s not surprised when Felix runs off, Sylvain hot on his heels with a call of his name, and Ingrid strides towards him, brings up her fist and punches him.

Yeah, he deserved that.

“Ingrid!”

“Wow, I wasn’t expecting… that.”

Ingrid has always been stronger than she looked; she has never been one to hide her skills but people assume too much and they deeply regret it later when she wipes the floor with them. She is shaking, her eyes that are directly looking into his shimmering with so many emotions that Glenn can’t name them all. His cheek and his nose are throbbing and already swelling, and he winces when he tries to open his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” he says lowly.

“I bet you are,” Ingrid replies, choking on her voice. “I bet you are.”

Then she stomps away. And Glenn is left with a gaping hole in his heart and too many pairs of eyes peering at him. So he sighs, runs his hand through his hair, and goes after—after whoever he finds first.

* * *

He doesn’t have to go far. The monastery is huge but he’s wandered in it enough times to have a clear path in mind. He climbs down the stairs to the main gates and sees from afar Sylvain and Felix by the pond, with Sylvain talking at Felix’s back in a hushed voice. Glenn won’t pretend that it won’t end in a disaster, one way or another.

The dread pooling in his stomach only increases with each step closer to the two boys, while his palms start sweating and stay that way even when he wipes them against his dirty pants. He’s dreamed of this day for years; but in his dreams he isn’t confronted with the reality of his decisions or the stares, and above everything, he knew exactly what to do.

Glenn is stealthy, but Sylvain still notices his approach, and turns around. His face is unreadable—his eyes are cold but they shine with something too clear, like he’s also ready to throw a punch if he looks at Glenn for too long.

“I don’t think it’s a wise idea,” Sylvain comments, crossing his arms over his chest.

Felix doesn’t move from his spot, though he visibly stiffens and resolutely keeps his head bowed. Glenn scratches the back of his head.

“Clearly not. But we need to have a talk, don’t we?”

Sylvain looks distrustful, face carefully crafted into a blank slate with his gaze as the only window to his soul. Glenn suddenly remembers the story of the disinherited Gautier son stealing the family relic to only be impaled by his own flesh and blood without a hint of remorse. If Sylvain did it with this face, then Glenn doesn’t believe it was without remorse.

“Please, Sylvain.”

“I’m not the one to make the call, Glenn.”

The curl around his name is bitter, disappointed. It’s not anger—and it would have been easier to deal with it if it was.

“I’m… just going to apologize, then,” he says lamely. “I know it won’t amount to anything. I’m glad you’re all safe.”

“Five fucking years.”

Both Sylvain and Glenn stare at Felix’s back, who is looking to the side, at the dark waters swaying quietly and crashing against the edge of the dock. The sun has gone down a long time ago now, and if it weren’t for the makeshift lamps they found in their scavenger hunt for anything useful, they wouldn’t even be having this conversation outside the safety of the building.

“Were you with the boar for those five years?”

Glenn closes his eyes.

“No, but I did find him a year after his supposed execution,” he answers truthfully.

Dimitri, running away from the imperial troops, hiding in abandoned areas and spilling the blood of anyone standing in his way. Dimitri, thinking he was dying the day he met his eyes and had kept apologizing for letting him down since then.

“I couldn’t leave him alone in his state,” he adds, and as soon as the words leave his mouth he regrets them.

Felix whirls around and explodes. “You—! Of course that’s what you’d say, of course you’d prefer staying dead to us because someone else needed you!”

Sylvain is stepping aside, silently, to let Felix fully face his brother. Glenn isn’t sure he’s grateful for it or not.

Felix barrels on.

“And even before that, you never came back! Not even a single fucking letter! Like—like you really wanted to disappear from our lives! Is this what you wanted? Is freedom what you wanted, Glenn?”

There are many reasons Glenn never sent a word of his survival—months of recovery, adjusting to his new environment among the people who nursed him back to health, wanting to make the journey back to Fraldarius and greet everyone in person. He’s thought about them all these years, because he longed to embrace his family again, warm and real and alive. He’s daydreamed of this reunion every time he was left alone with his thoughts, the number of these moments increasing with each passing day, week, month. In the end, he did nothing, and the reasons grew into excuses.

“I’ve wanted to go back,” he whispers. “To tell you and Father that I was fine, but I guess I was too much of a coward to show my face after all these years.”

Glenn Fraldarius has never been called a coward before, when he was a knight in the royal guard—but people change and some for the worst. He smiles wryly.

“In retrospect, it was really stupid of me to be scared of going home.”

“You’re the perfect knight that the old man has always praised. It doesn’t even surprise me you chose the boar over us. Fucking predictable.”

Glenn remembers a little brother too afraid to let go of his hand when they were surrounded by strangers, eyes wide and scanning every face to determine whether they’d be nice to him. He remembers a kid eager to learn swordplay and archery to become a great fighter, better than his older brother, but still seeking approval from him and from their father. Felix’s face was full of grins and enthusiasm even if crying came to him too quickly and too often for his liking, and he made the decision to stop being a crybaby because he wanted to be like Glenn—Glenn, who was resilient and didn’t let anyone trample on him, even if it meant resorting to colorful barbs.

This Felix is ten years older than the one in his memories and everything about him changed. He snarls as he hurls those words born of raw emotion, displaying more animosity than Glenn’s ever thought he’d see on his face, his sharp features twisted with fury and pain. It’s the face of someone ravaged by grief and—it’s the face of his little brother holding back the inevitable tears.

Glenn thinks he’s going to cry, too.

“I’m so sorry, Felix. I’m so sorry.”

Felix walks up to him and grabs a fistful of his collar, his breath coming in short, ragged blows. He has their mother’s eyes, glimmering golden when he’s overwhelmed with feelings.

“Apologies won’t undo years of… of mourning, you stupid, selfish bastard.”

And Felix’s voice cracks towards the end of his sentence, stopping abruptly his tirade and casting down his gaze, though he never loosens his grip on Glenn. He’s making choking and hissing sounds, like he’s drowning in the deepest waters and is trying to stay afloat. The sight pulls too many strings on Glenn’s heart, tugging on him painfully and rattling his entire body with hot guilt. He has frequently been the cause of Felix’s tears, but never like this—unbridled misery concealing even more layers of anger and anguish that Glenn doesn’t know how to extinguish.

He covers Felix’s hand with his own, swallowing his own fear, and brings up his other hand to put it on Felix’s head, but then thinks better of it when he notices Felix’s shoulders are still so tense.

“I know. I fucked up.” He licks his lips, trying his hardest not to look away. “I truly fucked up this time, didn’t I? But I mean it when I said I wanted to go home, one day. I shouldn’t have been such an idiot. So, if you still want me around...”

The more he speaks the less confident he becomes, his throat going dry with each word that doesn’t seem to go through Felix. He’s still not looking at Glenn, his jaw clenched while his eyes shine with unshed tears. Glenn lets out a shuddering breath.

“I’d understand if you want me to leave, or to give you space, I only hope that one day I can stand by your side again. As your big brother.”

Felix recoils and jerks his hand away, like he’s been burned and only realized now that he can be consumed whole. He finally lifts his gaze to stare at Glenn, and isn’t it weird to have your little brother at eye level instead of looking down to find an outstretched hand demanding to be held.

“You’re going to stick to the boar’s side,” Felix says accusingly. “So you’re going to stay here.”

Glenn slowly nods. Felix’s voice is quivering, and he bites onto his lips most likely to stop their wobbling. He exhales heavily, then covers his face with both his gloved hands.

“You’ve always been the most stubborn one. Whatever I say won’t—make you change your mind, so what’s the point? Don’t fucking make it sound like it’s _my_ decision.”

Glenn knows that he should step away, come back later when they’re both more coherent than the pathetic mess they’re displaying, but he can’t run away from this. He’s been selfish all those years, and he’s going to be again as he lifts his arms, wrapping them around Felix’s shoulders and back, and brings him close. Felix makes a protesting noise and struggles into his hold, but he quickly stops and thumps him in the shoulder with a hand not covering his face. That doesn’t faze Glenn at all.

“I’m the stubborn one?” Glenn chuckles. “Maybe that’s right, but you’re a handful too.”

People remember him as a man brandishing his weapon to cut through the situations rather than talking his way out. And that’s true, to an extent; but he’s always wanting to be better for his family.

“What do you really want, Felix?”

Perhaps it’s the familiarity of the touch. Perhaps it’s the simple way the question was asked. Glenn isn’t sure what opened the dam and let him into the guarded grounds of acceptance again, but Felix gives up hiding behind his hands and hugs him back fiercely, sobbing uncontrollably, fingers clinging to his back. It’s small, quiet hiccups that soon turn into loud sniffles, and tears are soaking his shirt but Glenn is oddly relieved to be able to hold Felix while he cries, like it was only yesterday they had seen each other. And he starts crying, too, stroking Felix’s hair and murmuring soft reassuring words to let him know he won’t leave again and that he’ll make up for lost time, as thank yous and sorrys are too easy to say and more difficult to prove.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! A kudo or a comment would be appreciated :D
> 
> / [twitter](https://twitter.com/kornetable)


	2. rivalry - honing your skills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sparring, Glenn learns, is still the most efficient way to talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hi! For day 2 I chose rivalry, though it's a very loose interpretation. What's a Fraldarius reunion if it doesn't involve a spar.

It’s weird.

Glenn spent the past few years roaming the roads with his blade as his sole companion. Even when he found Dimitri, the prince wasn’t always lucid enough to be qualified as normal human interaction. Traveling with someone and fighting every day for survival is also completely different from suddenly being part of an army with a clear hierarchy and tasks distributed to people. Glenn is no stranger to this system, of course, but it’s still extremely awkward for him to go into a room and have people stare at him because of his face (and his scars).

“Well, you look a lot like Felix,” Annette, that sweet girl, says with a smile. “He’s been our local grumpy man since our school days, so it’s a bit amusing to see two of you now—ah, uh, I didn’t want to be rude!”

“Don’t worry, I’ve heard far worse,” Glenn chuckles.

Ingrid is still avoiding him, or he’s the one avoiding her, but in any case it seems that Sylvain is mostly alright hanging out with him while Felix changes his mind every day. Dimitri is holing himself up in the cathedral, staring at the rubble and speaking with the many ghosts that have followed him everywhere. People don’t really know what to do with Glenn, so he keeps an eye on Dimitri or trains.

“I wish you’d see that I’m alive, once and for all,” he sighs, a few steps away from his prince. “I don’t understand why you forget, it’s not like I’m transparent or something.”

Stupidly, he lifts his hand and stares at it, like he expects it to fade as if to prove him wrong. He spent many nights wondering if Dimitri would leave their camp or their room at the inn to chase after enemies, or to listen to his ghosts and set out on a suicide mission. He doesn’t understand what is going on exactly in his head, no matter how many times he manages to make him talk.

“Still wasting your time here?”

Glenn turns around, taking in the scowl on Felix’s face and his posture that radiates annoyance. They have extensively studied the Church’s teachings as children, since their father was particularly insistent about it, but the both of them aren’t devout; Glenn doubts Felix has become more interested in religion over the years. He definitely didn’t come to pray. Glenn glances at the hulking form of Dimitri staring at the emptiness of the destroyed nave.

“Well, I’ve been wasting my time for four years already, a little longer isn’t gonna hurt.”

He flashes a grin at his brother who wrinkles his nose, clearly not amused by his answer.

“He’s too far gone,” Felix mutters. “You know that. You’ve seen how he fights and how he cares more about his absurd ghosts than the living. Come spar with me.”

Glenn still doesn’t quite get why Felix is so quick to judge and insult Dimitri, but asking for more explanations resulted in more anger. Everyone says that Felix never smiles and only displays aggressiveness, retreating into his shell of coldness towards anyone not willing to duel him at least once a day.

There are many things Glenn has to relearn, including speaking to his brother. He follows him out of the cathedral, after one last look at Dimitri that makes Felix scoff, and they silently walk towards the training grounds. Side by side, they must make an amusing sight, if he were to believe Annette’s words—they’re now at the same height, though Felix has maybe one centimeter on him, and they are built quite similarly despite the fact Glenn’s weapon of choice has been the lance before he took up mercenary work. It would be a bit weird to tell people to look at his slightly broader shoulders if they try to tell them apart at a distance.

Glenn’s eyes land on the short ponytail that is bouncing with each step.

“You don’t grow out your hair anymore?”

Felix looks confused for a moment, brushing his fingers against his hair, then shrugs.

“It’s not practical.”

Glenn bursts out laughing.

“Fe, if you wanted practical, you’d chop off all those bangs in your face too. How can you even see?”

Like it turned on a switch, Felix bristles and looks away, not before Glenn catches sight of his reddening ears.

“I see fine enough,” he mutters. “I’m the one who should be asking you why you keep your hair so long when we’re at war.”

Glenn tugs on his own ponytail, tied at the base of his neck and cascading all the way to the small of his back. He doesn’t remember the last time he cut his hair.

“Habit, I guess,” he answers cheerfully.

Felix doesn’t say another word and keeps walking. Glenn wishes he knew how to break the wall of ice that formed around his brother.

* * *

The training grounds look like they’ve seen better days, but it’s still in good condition to spar. A few training weapons are lying on the ground, since the racks for putting them away haven’t been repaired yet. Felix picks up the least damaged sword and gives it a few swings, then gives a pointed look to Glenn.

“Are you going to stand there all day?”

“Don’t be a little jerk and let me choose my weapon in peace.”

It’s easy to bite back when Felix is trying to be a smartass, though Glenn isn’t used to hearing that clipped tone in his voice, all sharp angles with none of the kindness he knows his brother is capable of. This is another issue (question?) he files for later, after they’ve plucked all the thorns littering the space between them.

He hasn’t wielded a lance in a while, but for old times’ sake, he grabs one. He tests it, hefting it to appreciate its weight, then nods to himself. He scrutinizes Felix’s face, but it’s still carefully closed off, brows furrowed and a dark glint in his eyes. It does nothing to appease Glenn.

“First to draw blood or yield?” he asks.

“First to yield.”

Felix barely waits for them to get properly into position, and lunges at Glenn. He’s fast; Felix has always been more reliant on his speed than on his strength, and he has greatly improved with the years. Glenn though easily parries the first blow and pushes him back, then thrusts his lance forward. He doesn’t aim at critical points just yet—he wants to see how his brother fights. The skirmish they had against the bandits didn’t leave much room for him to observe the skills that would be put into use during battle. Felix sidesteps, his feet light and silent on the ground, his whole body moving like he’s being pushed by the wind. Glenn has comments ready on his lips but he swallows them when Felix follows immediately with a vicious arching swing on his lance. Were they in a real battle, the sword would have cut clean through the wood of the shaft.

Glenn almost drops his weapon but manages to get a tighter grip on it, and uses the weight of his whole body to offset Felix’s balance. He then jams the end of his lance in his stomach, eliciting a grunt.

“You would have died if I had used the tip,” Glenn says.

“Shut up, I know,” Felix growls.

Felix doesn’t lose sight of his objective and charges again, recovering faster than Glenn would have thought, and keeps delivering slash after slash. Glenn switches from blocking to dodging, his footwork slower than Felix’s but steady enough to react as soon as he sees the attack coming. This is stalling, and Glenn knows Felix realizes it too, because the hits become harsher and quicker to give him less time to properly get out of harm’s way. It’s like fighting against an animal too angry and too frustrated.

Glenn grits his teeth and makes a sweeping motion with his lance, forcing Felix to retreat and parry with his sword, but the difference in the weights of their weapons gives an edge to Glenn. He applies more pressure on his left, and uses his momentum to once again hit Felix in the side with the end of his lance. He doesn’t stop here; he gets a better footing and swipes upwards to knock Felix’s sword out of his grasp in a single move, then points his lance at his throat. The sword clatters on the ground while Felix stares wide-eyed at him, slightly panting.

“Do you yield?” Glenn asks with a small smile.

“...I yield,” Felix grumbles.

Glenn lowers his lance, and brings his right hand to pat Felix on the head. For exactly two seconds everything feels like it has always been, but then Felix swats at his hand and jerks away violently.

“I’m not five anymore,” he mutters, fire blazing in his eyes.

Glenn considers him, takes in all the disappointment and the irritation that cycle through Felix’s face. It’s the same face, yet it is not.

“I guess not,” he concedes.

How he wishes things could be smoothed over, relieve them of the tension clinging to their backs and their words. It’s foolish to think that they can share jokes and be around each other in companionable silence again overnight.

“Again,” Felix demands.

So they spar again. Sword and lance clash, their feet leave traces on the ground, they scrape their elbows or their knees when they fall. Again and again, Glenn disarms Felix, corners him into a position of defeat, forces him to yield. Every single time, he has a lance in hand and Felix is empty-handed.

Palms pressed against the ground after falling backwards, Felix exhales heavily and looks up at the sky.

“All these years training every day and you still wiped the floor with me. Fuck.”

Glenn sits down cross-legged next to his brother, and lays down his lance. Some of the bangs framing his face are falling into his eyes; both of them actually have their hair in disarray but they don’t particularly care about it right now.

“Well, it’s not like I haven’t been fighting every day either,” Glenn points out, gaze fixed on the gates.

“I thought I could surpass you one day. Train hard, beat everyone standing in my way, hone my skills, and finally defeat you. But you were dead, Glenn.”

When Glenn glances at Felix, he’s surprised to see that he’s also looking in his direction.

“You were dead and I couldn’t defeat a corpse. The dead don’t rise from their grave to indulge in someone’s whims, especially those whom people fucking worshipped.”

Felix’s friends have told him how much he was respected as a knight, and how much he was admired by Ingrid and Dimitri. They told him his prowess in combat was praised, taken as an example to follow, because even Sylvain said that his technique was remarkable. But they never mentioned Felix’s opinion on the subject.

Glenn might start to understand why.

“It’s probably not much comfort to you, but when you started to take your training very seriously, I told myself I couldn’t let you catch up to me,” Glenn admits softly.

Felix’s gaze travels from wherever he was looking to Glenn’s eyes, directly looking into them for what feels like the first time since they’ve been reunited. It’s open, vulnerable, full of genuine curiosity and wonder, like a child discovering a secret he wasn’t supposed to stumble upon.

“In a way, I was making things more difficult for you.” Glenn snorts. “If my little brother bests me in combat, wouldn’t that make me ridiculous? Come on, you wouldn’t even respect me anymore if you easily beat me.”

It sounds like an elaborate prank, or an excuse he just pulled out of his ass, but it’s only the truth. In the past, Felix never hid his desire to become strong and dependable like his older brother. 

“It was like an unspoken rule that older siblings can’t allow their younger siblings to be better than them without putting up a good fight.”

“That’s...”

Felix still stares at him, but it’s now with disbelief rather than surprise. He runs a hand through his hair and makes an even more disheveled mess.

“That’s stupid,” he groans. “I don’t need you to justify yourself. Of course you want to be better, nobody likes being weak. And fighting as part of the royal guard means no slacking off. I wasn’t asking you to become useless, you moron.”

Glenn blinks, mouth slightly open, then he laughs, a sound coming deep from his throat and uncovered, no longer afraid of stepping on the thorns because they won’t go away unless he’s willing to get pricked.

“It’s a relief to know that we’re pushing each other forward, right?” His tone is light and joyful. “I’m glad we sparred, Felix.”

Fighting is a language that every single member of House Fraldarius knows and favors—it’s easy to get into the rhythm of a duel and to learn about the abilities of the one they’re exchanging blows with. It’s like assessing someone before deciding if they’re worth opening up to—and it seems that it works even among themselves.

Felix snorts, still a bit astonished, but his lips are curled upwards as he looks at the blue sky again.

“Yeah. I’m glad you came back, Glenn.”

And as if he couldn’t take it anymore, Felix shoves Glenn in the shoulder, and they start a round of tussling on the ground, like they were ten and fifteen again, until they both end up laughing so much they have to stop, and keep going from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> / [twitter](https://twitter.com/kornetable)


	3. sharing - opening up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Opening up is difficult.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!
> 
> For day 3: sharing, I initially wanted to write something like "one fact about themselves a day", but given Felix's willingness to talk about himself that would have been complicated haha. So Glenn is trying to make conversation.

Glenn can’t stop grinning, even when Felix tells him to behave like an actual soldier and kicks him for good measure.

“I’m just in a good mood, Fe!”

“You’re never in a good mood without a reason.”

“Oh wow, way to make me sound like a total party pooper like you.”

He easily dodges the jab in his side and cackles, walking ahead to avoid further body harm while Felix huffs. It feels so freeing.

When they enter the mess hall together, Sylvain raises an eyebrow and Ingrid shoots them a strange look. Neither of them seems particularly surprised to see them, though, and Glenn is happy to completely skip the uncomfortable questions about their current relationship to each other. Felix doesn’t acknowledge his friends and sits down where a plate is already waiting, but frowns at it.

“What’s that?” he points to the green things.

“They are vegetables, you carnivore,” Sylvain replies, amused. “And that plate was for Glenn, actually.”

Well, that only makes his smile grow bigger.

“Really?”

“Why would I make a plate with vegetables for Felix?” Sylvain laughs. “I, uh, wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I picked a bit at random.”

“So where’s my food?” Felix grumbles.

“Go get it yourself, you’re a big guy.”

Felix rolls his eyes and gets up, his chair loudly scraping on the floor as a sign of his displeasure. Glenn is only slightly confused by the situation, but when he glances at Ingrid and accidentally makes eye contact with her, she simply shrugs, and points to the plate.

“Eat your dinner.”

His good mood isn’t quite dampened, but he’s still unsure of the way he should act around Ingrid without being an even more massive jerk. He supposes he can start by doing what he’s told, so he sits down, picks up the fork and digs in. It’s only a handful of vegetables, a piece of bread and a small cut of meat that is too chewy. Given how meager their supplies are, he’s surprised the whole army is allowed to eat that much.

“So, before Felix comes back and starts complaining about whatever that’s upset him lately, I want to say that it’s good you’re back, Glenn.”

Glenn lifts his gaze, searching for any clues on Sylvain’s bright face. However, just like on the day they’ve been reunited, he’s unable to decipher anything conclusive.

“I mean, it’s not every day someone we thought dead graces us with his presence,” Sylvain continues cheerfully. “But mostly, I’m glad Felix is letting you around him. So thanks.”

There is without a doubt more under that innocent statement, and there are so many things Glenn wants to comment on, but they’re short on time so he settles for a grunt and a wave of his hand.

“I’m lucky any of you isn’t glaring at me all day or wants to punch me for being an asshole.” He pauses, looks toward Ingrid who is very much avoiding his gaze, and says, “Don’t worry Ingrid, I’m not mad. I’d punch myself too, y’know.”

“...We probably need to talk,” she murmurs.

Well shit, not the direction he thought that conversation would take.

“Yeah, we should.”

Felix chooses _that_ moment to come back and deposit his plate on the table with more strength than necessary, and Glenn has the sinking suspicion his brother knows he was sent away for a private conversation excluding him. But Felix doesn’t say a word and eats his food, comprising of only meat and bread as expected, and the sight of it ignites in Glenn’s heart a feeling of fond exasperation.

“So you really are still a carnivore,” he teases.

“Shut up and eat your green slime,” Felix snaps around a mouthful of bread.

“He won’t eat vegetables unless there’s nothing else to eat,” Ingrid chimes in lowly.

“Eat shit, Ingrid.”

The normalcy of the situation is appeasing, in a way, and Glenn smiles.

* * *

Night has fallen and the stars are shining, though the cloudy sky doesn’t let them see a lot of them tonight. The walk to the cathedral was refreshing and calming. A few monks are still wandering around to clean up, and others are saying their last prayers for the day; none of them pays attention to Glenn, who sits carelessly on one of the benches and watches. Dimitri hasn’t moved from his spot in front of the ruins, shoulders hunched and gaze probably unseeing. Maybe tomorrow he will feel better, and say a few words to the people who care for him. Glenn will be here for him, always watching and protecting.

* * *

“So, anything important I should know?”

They’re carrying boxes from their new arrival of materials to the forge, and while it’s a task that should befall lower ranking soldiers, Byleth saw it fit to ask their main force to help around the monastery. Glenn roped Felix into going with him and he’s now appreciating some quality time with his brother with no small amount of glee. He’s been in good spirits ever since their spar, which seems to have chipped at the wall separating them.

Felix lets out a non-committal noise, apparently still so resistant to talking.

“No,” he says uselessly.

“C’mon, there must be something. Some battle prowess, details about your new friends—don’t look at me like that, they’re your friends! Or even something that happened at home?”

Maybe prying information out of his brother is the least efficient way to learn what he’s missed those past ten years. He could ask anyone else, but that would defeat the purpose of trying to reconnect with his family. It suddenly hits him that he hasn’t asked after their father yet, even once, but judging by the dark look on Felix’s face at the mention of home, that’s perhaps best not to.

“What do you want me to say? I went to the Academy, I went on missions, I killed people and I’m trying to survive in a war. Nothing exciting or spectacular.”

“Well, surely you do something else outside of training,” Glenn says, frowning. “Like hobbies. You used to love reading chivalry tales.”

Felix pins him with a difficult gaze to read.

“We’re at war, Glenn.”

“I’m well aware. I like training but I also like cooking when I find the time.”

Glenn shouldn’t be surprised, but he is, every time Felix barks a reply that sounds like it’s from the mouth of someone raised to be a soldier and nothing else. Admitting he misses the little brother he knew would be denying the man that Felix has become, and that would be cruel for the both of them. Things can’t be the same forever, and even if he never left, or came back earlier, Felix would have grown anyway—and Glenn has already told himself he’d get pricked on his way to forgiveness.

“We should cook sometime,” he adds quietly.

“...I like hunting. When I have nothing to do.”

Felix averts his eyes, but Glenn grins at the sincerity in his voice.

“Well, you hunt and I cook, that sounds perfect.”

* * *

One morning, Dimitri comes looking for him in the stables. Glenn wonders if he should have stayed with him the night before, since his sullen face looks a bit worse than usual.

“I couldn’t find you,” Dimitri mumbles.

“I’m sorry, you looked like you needed space,” Glenn replies, and he smiles gently. “Did you eat breakfast with everyone?”

Dimitri looks away, and well, that’s to be expected. He most likely hasn’t spoken more words than necessary to anyone. Glenn pats him on the shoulder and goes to the mess hall to retrieve some food; at this hour there should be at least some bread left.

Sylvain and Felix are inside the building, standing near the entrance and looking like they were arguing. When Sylvain spots him, he waves at him.

“Glenn, tell Felix that riding horses is better than running around on foot,” he groans.

“Riding horses is better than running around on foot, Felix,” Glenn deadpans, arching an eyebrow.

Felix smacks his forehead. “Not everyone wants to be a cavalryman like you two, and I like ‘running around’, so leave me alone.”

“I’m sure I’d be interested in your debate, but I have to go.”

Glenn looks apologetically at them, slips past them and snatches two pieces of bread. Sylvain laughs.

“What, still hungry?”

“Don’t be stupid, it’s for Dimitri.” Glenn rolls his eyes.

More than seeing it, he feels Felix withdrawing into himself and scoffing.

“The boar isn’t even capable of getting his own damn food. Is he even grateful you do all that for him?”

Glenn really, really needs to talk about the Dimitri issue soon. He can’t go around and have Felix insult their prince whenever he finds the opportunity to. It seems it’s so ingrained in Felix that it doesn’t even draw out any reaction, judging by Sylvain’s silence. Something terrible must have happened.

He sighs. “Sometimes, caring for someone is enough.”

They’ll have that discussion later. He ignores the disgust etched on Felix’s features.

* * *

“How did you get those nasty scars?”

They’re lying on the ground like the graceless nobles they are after their sparring session. Of course Felix would ask this question when he can’t see his face properly. Glenn brings a hand to the scar running from his jaw to his neck on his left side, then to the burns on his right cheek. He’s lived with them for so long he sometimes forgets they exist—they became a part of him like witnesses of his past.

“The burns are from Duscur,” he hums, not particularly bothered despite the heaviness of the topic. “The other scar is from someone clearly trying to fucking kill me, but I was stronger. The guy got killed instead.”

He had been traveling with Dimitri for days and the little sleep they could get wasn’t enough to keep all his senses sharp. Not one of his greatest days.

Felix is quiet. Glenn has noticed he likes staring at the sky, in any weather, but he particularly seems to be mesmerized by the vast and plain stretch of blue, like today. Maybe it has calming effects—gazing at nothing but the endless and unreachable void hanging over their heads. Felix does sound more relaxed whenever it happens, anyway.

“That must have hurt like hell,” Felix mutters.

“Eh, I don’t really remember. I’m just glad I can live normally even if I’m disfigured.”

“Better that than being dead.”

The temperature drops a few degrees.

“Sorry,” Felix chokes out.

Glenn sits upright, and stares at his brother.

“Fe, you can be honest with me, you know,” he says, softly. “I’m your big brother. If you need a hug, I’m more than happy to oblige.”

“Don’t go spouting fucking nonsense.”

Felix snorts, though his lips quirk up, and Glenn looks up at the sky too. He slides closer to his brother and leans down.

“I’m serious, I’m gonna hug you right now,” he teases.

“Ugh, you’re insufferable.”

“I know I won’t be shy about demanding one when I’m in a funk. Accept your fate.”

Felix scrambles up and dodges Glenn’s arms, keeping him away with his own extended arm and swatting for good measure. He’s now scowling but Glenn can see there is no heat behind his words and his expression, clearly putting up a fight just because he wants to be difficult. That’s fine. That’s perfectly fine.

“But really, if you need to share your concerns or your worries, you can talk to me,” Glenn reminds him.

“Stop talking about that, I don’t need another person pressuring me into talking about my _feelings_.”

“That sounds like a good idea, actually.”

“You can try,” Felix snorts.

The breeze ruffles their hair. It’s quiet, an easy evening to slip into, despite their circumstances. They’re still treading on ice and they’re ignoring many issues clinging to them, but they have time to figure it out. Glenn isn’t in a hurry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Come talk to me about FE on [twitter](https://twitter.com/kornetable)!!


	4. promises - solemn oath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, Glenn knew it wasn't going to be a walk in the park.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! This is day 4: promises, in which there is a bit of plot since I tackle the events from chapter 14. Glenn is becoming more comfortable in the monastery so the narration tone got a bit lighter!

So, maybe Glenn told Ingrid they probably shouldn’t renew their betrothal just yet.

Maybe Ingrid nodded and said she understood, and she needed time anyway.

Maybe Glenn felt relieved.

Maybe Glenn felt like shit, too.

He hasn’t actively thought about the life he should have lived for years. Inheriting the Fraldarius dukedom, getting married to Ingrid, serve the king and raise the next generation of knights—it sounds like a story he’s not the protagonist of. If he was asked a couple years ago whether he wanted to go home and resume his life as it had been, he probably would have said yes. Now, however, with the knowledge he has of the roads and the world around him, and the widely different expectations he’s been saddled with, he isn’t quite sure he’d fit in again.

Ingrid said their attention has to be fully concentrated on the war, and he agreed; they have more pressing matters at hand, and discussing a hypothetical future won’t bring any reassurances.

Today’s sky is clear, the sun is out and the wind is gently blowing—it’s a perfect weather for battle. An excellent way to get his mind off things and to focus on something he knows he can do.

The Empire sent their forces to take back the monastery, which begs the question of why they had not secured it earlier, but Glenn isn’t here to give excuses to their enemies. Byleth has summoned everyone to fight and protect the monastery, and she has broken the army into two parts; she apparently saw it fit to put him in the same side as Dimitri, Felix and herself. He doesn’t complain though, since he can keep an eye on his prince, and fighting alongside his brother is much more thrilling than he thought it would be. He’s also intrigued by Byleth’s technique.

The battle isn’t much of a challenge, surprisingly. Glenn expected the imperial soldiers to be sturdier and more organized, but maybe Dimitri charging into their ranks and destroying everything in his path in one fell swoop disrupted their plans. That’s how they’ve been surviving for the past years—Dimitri charging in, Glenn protecting the rear. Even when they’re surrounded by comrades and friends, it feels that they’re alone on the battlefield.

Glenn doesn’t worry too much about Dimitri, so he focuses on Felix. His brother tells him he fights better when he’s not accompanied by any battalion or allies, but Glenn is stubborn, too.

“I can’t let you fight all alone, what if you get injured?”

“I’m always fighting alone. The boar is charging in like the beast he is, but I don’t see you hovering near him.”

Glenn makes a frustrated noise and decides to fall into step with Felix, his refusal be damned.

Sparring sessions are always long and strenuous, Felix being adamant about giving his all during his training to yield the best results, and Glenn can see how this translates into actual battle. The slashing, the dodging and the counterattacking, all of his moves look like they’re barely exerting him as he’s cutting through his enemies with ease. Glenn kills his own share of soldiers and doesn’t let anyone approach them with a blast of fire; Felix glances only once at him when it saved him from an archer hiding behind a pillar, and Glenn flashes him a quick smile. They’re not fighting as a unit, like partners or trusted allies would do, but they’re working together well enough. They fall into a casual rhythm that doesn’t make Glenn wonder whether they’d survive—he knows they will.

He hears Dimitri roar when he strikes down one of the generals, and he listens to the murmurs of arrows flying over their heads to take down the remaining forces. Byleth captures the leader of the troops with impressive dexterity, a young man who looks reliable and promised to a great military career. On his knees and restrained by two soldiers, blood dripping from his temple where he’s been struck, there is not much hope left for him. Felix is also watching the interaction from afar, wiping off the sweat on his forehead and the blood on his sword.

Dimitri is spouting terrifying words, that much is clear. The low rumbling of his voice carries far enough for everyone near him to hear the thirst for blood in it. Felix is gritting his teeth and looks one second away from screaming.

“What does he want?” he mutters, crossing his arms and averting his eyes.

Glenn swallows. “Maybe I should go check on them.”

Felix narrows his eyes, always the same displeasure painted on his face when Dimitri is concerned, but he says nothing so Glenn steps forward.

However, he breaks into a run when Dimitri lifts his fist, eyes dangerously close to murderous. Byleth is already drawing her sword and she drives it into the general without hesitating. The man slumps forward, his armored body hitting the ground in a resounding clatter as Glenn arrives and grabs Dimitri’s arm.

“Dimitri, calm down,” he hisses, darting his eyes from Dimitri to Byleth.

“Unhand me, Glenn,” Dimitri demands, shaking with rage.

“He’s dead. Byleth killed him.”

Dimitri glances at his professor, cold and inexpressive. “Why would you do this, Professor?”

“I couldn’t watch anymore. He doesn’t deserve such torture.”

Glenn slowly releases Dimitri’s arm, and exhales heavily. His prince’s focus is on Byleth.

“You said you’d try to listen less to your ghosts,” he whispers, almost accusingly. “I can’t see or hear what they say, but I’m here. I’m not telling you to torture every imperial general you encounter on my behalf.”

Dimitri doesn’t answer. His whole body is still on guard, like he expects someone to attack him. From the corner of his eye, Glenn sees Byleth take a step forward.

“Dimitri. Did you hear what Glenn said?”

Ever so slowly, the prince lifts his gaze from the ground, and pins Glenn with a look of absolute misery. This, Glenn can handle.

“Hey, I’m not angry,” he says with the beginning of a smile. “It happens. But I’m here to remind you I won’t up and disappear just because I’m not in your line of sight anymore. Don’t beat yourself up over this.”

He tentatively pats him on the shoulder, looking him straight in the eyes. Making direct eye contact, he has learned over the years, is the sure way to make Dimitri understand he’s not as alone as he thinks he is. Glenn isn’t sure how much of his words goes through him, but he recognizes the spark of life in his remaining eye.

“Now stop moping. We have a monastery to clean up.”

Dimitri nods, and walks away. Glenn sighs and follows after him, apologizing to Byleth, who only inclines her head and motions for him to get going. Well, she’s probably as worried about Dimitri as he is.

Felix stays behind.

* * *

Speaking to Dimitri and making sure he wasn’t going to do anything stupid while in the cathedral is in Glenn’s job description. He’s looked after his prince and chased away the ghosts as best as he could, but he wishes things could get better. He has no idea how to completely convince Dimitri that he can’t keep listening to the sweet words the dead are saying, how to convince him he should take care of himself.

He also didn’t manage to coax him into coming to the mess hall for dinner, so it’s with a heavy sigh he gets in line for food, exhausted, when Felix suddenly slides next to him. Glenn nearly jumps ten meters in the air.

“What the fuck, Felix, don’t sneak on me like that,” he groans, rubbing his forehead.

“Is it always like that?”

Glenn blinks, then squints at his brother who is doing the exact same motion, and it would have been funny if they weren’t both wary of the same topic.

“Yeah, well, Dimitri isn’t exactly in his right mind.”

“That’s what I’m talking about. Why do you keep… going after him when he doesn’t even acknowledge you? It’s a fucking waste of time.”

“You already said that. And I told you that sometimes caring is enough.”

“Aren’t you just acting out of duty? Like you somehow feel responsible for him just because you were once in the royal guard?”

Glenn stares. Felix is scowling, fire dancing behind his eyes, face completely scrunched with loathing. It’s not a good look on him.

“Not everything has to do with duty, Fe. Why do you assume I’m doing this because I was a knight?”

Felix lets out a snort, dismissive and derisive.

“Because you always talked about being a great knight,” he snaps. “Because you spoke of duty like you were born to serve the king. I don’t fucking know, Glenn, the last time I saw you was ten years ago and you said you’d protect your liege with your life and you fucking did!”

People are starting to get excessively interested in their conversation, and with Felix’s outburst they’re going to stare unabashedly. Glenn forces himself to remain calm, but there is only so much bullshit he can take from his brother.

“We should go outside for this,” he tells him evenly, and gives up getting food for a while.

They stand in the grass near the dead trees in the yard. Few people can hear them; it’s not an ideal spot but it’s best if they sort this out quickly.

Felix is fuming and doesn’t look ready to calm down any time soon.

“Speak,” he spits out. “Is the boar worth all those efforts?”

“I don’t know what happened between you and Dimitri to make you hate him so much, but that doesn’t give you any right to tell me what I should do,” Glenn retorts just as hotly. “I understand you’re still mad at me. But have I ever shown signs I’d follow my liege blindly?”

Ever since his childhood, as far back as he can remember, he’s always said he’d fight for his liege but also be his advisor, if he could. He’s spent time babysitting both his brother and the prince—he’s never seen Dimitri as just someone he will obey the orders from.

“I look after him because I care about him, and because I’m his friend.”

“Dimitri died in Duscur,” Felix says in a cold voice. “The boar is what’s remaining of him; a mindless beast that only wants to kill. He doesn’t care about your friendship. You’ve seen him!”

There is so much hatred but also desperation in Felix’s voice. Like he wants to make Glenn understand, to make him acknowledge that there is truth in his words.

“I never said you’d blindly follow him, but that’s what you’re doing. You’re coddling him and telling him it’s alright to lose his fucking mind so long as he knows it’s not ‘what he should do’.”

“Then what do you want me to do? Yell at him because he’s haunted by ghosts and make him even more unstable? It’s not that simple, Felix! You can’t run away from the problem by pretending it doesn’t exist!”

Felix physically recoils at this and looks prepared to draw his sword. He’s flushed with anger, baring his teeth and shaking, just like Dimitri did earlier in the day.

“I’m not running away,” he asserts.

“You are,” Glenn replies viciously. “It’s not by idly standing in the cathedral and telling him to fuck off that you’re going to make things better.”

Glenn has seen him, a few times at night. He’s seen Felix watching Dimitri from afar, hidden by the pillars and merging with the shadows, like he’s waiting for a miracle to happen. He has never brought up the subject because he knew it wouldn’t end up well—all the vitriol Felix has spat, all the fury he’s containing within himself look like they’re hurting him as much as it’s hurting Dimitri. Glenn has no patience left to deal with this mess.

“It’s—that’s not the point,” Felix denies darkly. “I’m only saying that your efforts are useless given the state he’s in, and that you should focus on something else. You should be training or attending meetings or whatever, not following the boar around like you’re his damned chaperone.”

And it hits Glenn plainly in the face. It’s so clear he feels stupid for not realizing what the root of this particular problem was, and all his irritation vanishes for astonishment.

Felix is jealous. He’s jealous of all the attention he’s giving Dimitri. It’s so stupid in the grand scheme of things. It probably doesn’t have anything to do with the way he treats Dimitri, but it undoubtedly exacerbated it.

“I made a promise,” he sighs. “I won’t leave his side until everything gets under control. I serve him even if I’m not a knight by name anymore, and I care about him. And I’m making another promise, with you.”

Glenn extends his hand and shows Felix his pinky. Felix stares at him, bewildered.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here until the end of the war, and even after the war ends I’m not going to disappear on you. I don’t want to reenact our exhausting reunion multiple times in my life.”

It took them days to find a semblance of normalcy, and even then they both knew it wasn’t going to be a smooth reconciliation.

“You also have to promise me you’ll try to help Dimitri, or if you don’t want to actively help him, at least stop antagonizing him so much. This is counterproductive for everyone involved and you’re only getting more angry every time you insult him.”

“I don’t have to agree to something so foolish,” Felix grumbles.

Glenn smiles. “No, you don’t. But as I said, you’re running away from the problem. I’m not saying your words are unfounded, you’re only seeing what you want and not what’s under it. Believe me when I tell you it will be alright, Fe. There’s always a solution.”

Maybe Glenn is being overly hopeful and confident. He can’t predict what is awaiting them tomorrow, nor can he know for sure that Dimitri will stop listening to his ghosts. However, he can ensure that things won’t get worse.

“I’m still your big brother, if I wanted to lie I’d do it much less subtlety,” he jokes. “Are you going to make me wait forever or what?”

“You’re insufferable and I’m not going to make a _pinky promise_ when we’re both grown ass adults,” Felix growls.

“I’m an adult. You’re a child. C’mon.”

Reluctantly, Felix approaches him and links his finger with Glenn’s, looking at anything but Glenn’s face, still flushed from his outburst and now by embarrassment. Glenn is grinning and he shakes their fingers.

“We’re family, don’t forget that.”

Worthless words for some people, but Glenn hopes that they resonate with Felix as much as they do with him. Family by blood or by choice—there’s always a bond somewhere tugging them in the right direction, and Glenn wants to believe it won’t let him down. Felix shrugs, but doesn’t deny it; that’s enough for Glenn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I still have a lot of things I want to explore in Glenn's character in this AU, so I hope I'll get to write everything I need to :)
> 
> / [twitter](https://twitter.com/kornetable)


	5. teaching - patiently

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glenn and Felix try their hands at magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a much lighter tone, because the next one is going to be a bit on the angsty side haha. This is day 5: teaching/learning.

Felix is not amused, and frankly, Glenn isn’t either. They’re both in a mood and they glare at anyone that so much as tries to engage in a conversation, which somehow is also a great source of laughter for some people in their army. Because they have almost identical scowling faces and yes, they’re really brothers!

“That’s really not funny,” Glenn mutters, stabbing his fork into the larger piece of meat they were allowed to eat.

“Honestly, it kind of is,” Sylvain retorts foolishly, earning a stomp on his foot by Felix, and hisses. “Hey! I’m just saying that seeing the two of you sitting down because Rodrigue forced you to learn white magic is unusual! Of course it’s amusing!”

“Oh yes, listening to the old man lecture us for hours and beating us with a stick to practice healing is real damn funny, fuck off Sylvain,” Felix grouses.

“Actually, the funniest part was Glenn crying—”

“Hand to hand, first to pass out, right now, Gautier.”

Sylvain lifts his hands in surrender and looks actually scared of what Glenn is going to do to him, so that’s a win.

Their father did a double take when he arrived with backup in Ailell, his eyes growing the size of saucers and his mouth hanging open; it was the most surprised Glenn has ever seen of his father and even his nervousness at the prospect of speaking with him didn’t stop his large grin from spreading across his face. They fought, they won, then a Fraldarius reunion occurred and both sons are more than willing to erase it from their memory, tears, hugs and soft words with it.

It should have been fine to proceed from there, but of course, Rodrigue decided it would be thrilling to teach them white magic as a family activity. _Bonding time._ Well, Felix is having a harder time than Glenn, so maybe it’s more of a punishment for him than for Glenn.

“Sorry, I won’t make fun of you anymore,” Sylvain says sheepishly. “I feel you guys needed that.”

He doesn’t specify _what_ exactly they needed, the emotional reunion or the jokes, but Glenn thinks it doesn’t matter. Felix is still glowering and Glenn sighs, munching on his dinner. There are worst ways to reconnect with a father, he supposes.

* * *

In his younger days, Glenn had made a point of studying reason and not faith because it would be pointless to be a carbon copy of his father; Felix didn’t have the patience for magic and favored weapons instead. That doesn’t mean Glenn is good at black magic, and he does have the bases covered in white magic, but that still sucks to sit in a room and focus on his inner energy when he could be outside doing other, physical task.

“You never were one to be still,” his father recalls fondly, watching both his sons struggling to produce a healing spell more powerful than the last. “You dragged your brother around the castle grounds and got yourselves into trouble.”

“Nice of you to finally admit Glenn set me up all the time,” Felix grumbles, slapping the table in frustration when the light in his palm flickers and dies.

“I was being a good big brother,” Glenn argues.

It’s weird. There are so many levels of weirdness to this that Glenn can’t help but feel it’s all a trap, a dream, or something. There is a war raging on beyond the walls of the monastery but here he is, learning some spells under the supervision of his delighted father while his brother is trying to do the impression of a prickly cat.

“Unfortunately, I saw that on the battlefield neither of you is equipped to provide first aid should our comrades sustain an injury. It is best if you at least can cast a sufficient healing spell while waiting for the healers.”

The cut on Glenn’s hand from their last battle has closed after he repeatedly cast Heal on it, so now he’s working on his concentration because, quoting his father, he needs to feel the pull of magic in his mind, and he’ll know if he’s using enough energy for a powerful spell. That’s completely different from black magic, which draws a bit from the natural energy already surrounding them, amplified by the mage’s abilities. They’ve been in this room for thirty minutes and he’s already feeling the beginning of a headache while Felix looks on the verge of snapping.

“This is so stupid,” he keeps saying. “I’d rather learn reason. And we’re at war, do you really think it’s the moment to learn new tricks?”

“It is never too late to learn how to save your allies, Felix,” Rodrigue sighs. “Do you need a target to practice?”

Felix’s eyes travel from his empty hand to Rodrigue, but they quickly look at the table again.

“No.”

“I can make a cut on my arm,” Glenn offers.

“ _No._ ”

Glenn chuckles.

* * *

For a week straight, while they are preparing for their next attack and ferrying supplies from one place to another, Glenn and Felix spend at least one hour a day in a room, in the library, to improve their white magic. Rodrigue checks on them at the start of their training session, and he would have stayed for the remaining time but he has duties to attend to—and none of them wanted him to hover and comment on their progress every minute, anyway.

To be quite honest, it’s not that bad. Glenn is even enjoying himself, once he got used to the feeling of white magic coursing through his body, and he says so to Felix, who looks at him with annoyance.

“You’re the only one then.”

“I’m thinking it’s something that Father probably wanted us to do since we were kids. Sitting us down, taking faith classes, and become good healers or powerful white mages, whatever.”

“That’s precisely what we’ve wanted to avoid.”

Glenn shrugs, but there is still a smile on his lips. “Yeah, and we’re still refusing to become like him, right? You also picked up the sword because I preferred lances. You trained with a bow to get magic far away from you.”

Felix doesn’t deny either of those statements, and keeps glaring at his open palm like it will make the soft green glow stronger. That puts things into perspective and Glenn thinks he understands a bit better what their father wanted for them, even if in his hazy memories he doesn’t remember him being particularly insistent on the subject of faith. Maybe as long as they were good fighters, their weapons mattered little. However, being proficient in healing would have made them incredibly precious on a battlefield. There is also the possibility that Rodrigue simply wanted his sons to be like him—and Glenn still has conflicting feelings about that particular aspect.

They keep trying, and they end up being able to cast a decent Heal spell; their father is pleased and puts each of his hands on their shoulders, saying how proud he is to have such hard-working sons.

“Uh, Father, it’s not that I don’t appreciate you complimenting us, but it’s so strange coming from you,” Glenn says.

“Fucking creepy you mean,” Felix grits out.

Rodrigue seems to only be able to sigh in their presence.

“I am only speaking the truth. I know how reluctant you are to learning faith, so I am glad to see the fruits of your labor.”

And that somehow pulls at a string in Glenn’s heart, because he finds himself laughing and snorting. Felix groans, but he only looks mildly disgusted by those words, so perhaps he’s taking them better than Rodrigue anticipated.

* * *

“Hey, do you wanna learn how to cast a fire spell?”

Felix doesn’t even look up from the sword he’s cleaning.

“No, because I suck at it.”

“Did you even try?”

“Yes, and I suck at it.”

“Maybe another spell then? Like thunder? Thunder sounds like it’d fit your fighting style.”

Glenn dodges the pebble that Felix throws at him. They’re sitting on the steps in the training grounds after their usual sparring, and with their brand-new Heal spell they don’t have to suffer from bad bruises anymore. It’s kind of neat.

“I actually only mastered a basic fire spell and a thoron one, because of its range,” Glenn adds. “I don’t see the need to learn other advanced spells since I won’t actually have the time to cast them.”

He’s no mage and magic drains him faster than he’d like. Maybe he can become more resistant to the fatigue by practicing, but that’s too much work—he’s so glad he gets to hone his skills with the lance since it’s been so long, so he’s not sure he can split his focus evenly.

Felix eyes him dubiously.

“The old man forced me to learn a white magic spell, and now you want to teach me black magic? No thanks.”

“You’re the one who said you’d prefer learning reason!”

“Reason over faith, not both!”

“You could show off with your new knowledge. And imagine how cool it would be to wield a Levin sword! Man, I haven’t had one in hand for ages, it’s such a good sword.”

There is something really satisfying in Felix’s silence.

Five days, three singed shirts and one broken sword later, Felix brings down thunder on whoever running away from his sword.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! I love the idea of mortal savant Felix but why does he only have two spells. gah
> 
> / [twitter](https://twitter.com/kornetable)


	6. hopes & dreams - to be a knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Knighthood, and what it means.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is less painful than I thought it would be, but I'm not complaining haha This is day 6: hopes and dreams!

The thing is, revenge is a powerful desire that is not easily quelled. Try as he might, Glenn can’t convince Dimitri that chasing after Edelgard’s head like he is will not be as beneficial as he thinks it will.

Glenn is leaving the cathedral proper when he hears shouting outside, near the stairs, and recognizes the voices. His heart is dropping all the way to his stomach.

“Are you kidding me? There’s no way the army will agree to do something so stupid!”

“He is our prince and the next king. The soldiers do not have any other choice but to obey.”

“You’d really send our men to death because you follow the boar’s wishes?”

“Glenn will not object.”

_Uh, Glenn doesn’t know what he isn’t objecting to but he’s pretty sure a discussion is necessary._

“I can’t believe you.”

Felix storms off, not bothering to listen to what else Rodrigue has to say. He comes face to face with Glenn, who smiles thinly.

“Hey, Fe. Arguing with Father again?”

Felix scoffs and moves past him, apparently too angry and ruffled to talk to his brother. That’s to be expected; Felix has always had temper tantrums as a child and had needed time to cool down. It seems it hasn’t changed much as he grew older, except he’s way more vocal about it and less compromising. Glenn sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, and glances at his father. Rodrigue shakes his head.

“It has been this way ever since the Tragedy,” he offers as an explanation. “Felix and I have not been able to hold a conversation without him leaving furious.”

“Did you try to change the way you talk to him?” Glenn asks quietly, saddened to have his suspicions confirmed that his presumed death probably drove a wedge between father and son.

Rodrigue pinches the bridge of his nose, dismayed. “I am afraid he will never forgive me for what I said all these years ago. Your brother is very stubborn and principled, as you know.”

It doesn’t sound like a compliment from his own father’s mouth. Glenn nods, wondering if he should offer some kind of reassurance, but Rodrigue decides it’s time they retire to prepare their next march. So Glenn obeys.

* * *

They leave in two days for Gronder Field. Byleth, as much as her facial expression permits it, looks reluctant to give orders while Gilbert—Gustave—takes the reins for this operation. There is still hesitancy in Rodrigue’s gait when he approaches the Fraldarius soldiers to tell them they’ll march towards Enbarr and not towards Fhirdiad, but since Dimitri is actually out and about to hasten the preparations, Glenn knows his father will give the final order. The soldiers are quiet and most likely unhappy about this development, but as it was highlighted the night before, they can’t disobey.

“I don’t get it,” Glenn admits, crossing his arms. “Dimitri is the prince but you have the power to stop him. You’re the King’s Right Hand.”

“His Highness’s judgment is clouded by his feelings,” Rodrigue says. “Do you think he will listen to us if we forbid him to lead an assault on Enbarr alone?”

This exact scenario is what made Glenn stick to Dimitri’s side for four years. He stalled their journey to the Empire territory and pulled him into mercenary contracts under the pretense they needed the money for better equipment, which was true but that wasn’t the main purpose. Even now, when they are in the monastery or in the camp near their next battlefield, he fears that he will wake up to the news of Dimitri having disappeared in the night.

Glenn deeply sighs, frustrated. “I guess you’re right. I thought he would forget his revenge but no matter what I did, he was haunted.”

“Your… return didn’t abate his desire?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe it did, but he still wants to get revenge for his parents.”

They remain silent for a while. This isn’t a topic Glenn is fond of talking about, since it opens a can of depressing thoughts that nobody wants to dwell on.

“I am glad you came back to us, my son,” Rodrigue tells him with one of his most sincere smiles.

Ten years have passed and it’s not unnatural that his father looks weary and older, but Glenn senses that time has taken too big a toll on him.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “Yeah, I’m glad too.”

* * *

Dimitri is leading the march to Gronder, so Glenn stays close behind, Byleth by his side. Felix is in the back with his friends, and it’s only when night falls they can sit down and have a conversation. They haven’t talked to each other since the fight he had with Rodrigue. Glenn supposes there is no point to beat around the bush.

“What did Father say to make you so mad?”

Felix snaps his gaze towards him with horror, but it quickly morphs into rage. His fists curl into his lap as he glares at the fire they’ve built.

“Nothing.”

“You can’t possibly expect me to believe this when you’re always seconds away from punching him.”

Words are the most difficult weapon to master. It’s so easy to hurt someone when the wrong words leave angry lips, but being gentle and kind is an art to be cultivated. Neither Glenn or Felix is good at it.

Felix seems to be at war with himself for a moment, though Glenn knows he will cave sooner than he’d have liked.

“When we got your armor after Duscur, he said you died like a true knight,” he says through gritted teeth. “At the time, I couldn’t care less you were a true knight, you fucking died.”

“...That’s it?”

Maybe Glenn should think before opening his mouth.

“What do you mean, that’s it?” Felix shouts, outraged.

“Well, we’ve been raised on chivalry tales and values, of course Father would say something like that. Hell, people said I was the embodiment of knighthood.”

Felix exhales heavily, face twisted ugly as he tries to maintain a semblance of composure.

“Dying for someone isn’t honorable, it’s foolish.”

“I’d say it’s not meaningless knowing you protected them,” Glenn points out.

The tension in the air is getting thicker and Felix grows agitated. This will not end well.

“You and the old man always believed in this crap. I don’t. I don’t anymore.” Felix stands up, walking away.

“Wait, Felix—!”

“Forget it!”

More than misery at the knowledge Felix is distancing himself again, Glenn is consumed with irritation and only wants to shake his brother until he drops all his stupidity.

They don’t find another opportunity to talk until the end of the Battle at Gronder.

* * *

The Battle at Gronder was a massacre; soldiers from all sides were killed right and left, littering the field with bodies while the fire kept burning everything to a crisp. It was draining and nobody left unscathed, as they either sustained injuries or they were too exhausted to even form a coherent sentence. This is probably why Glenn moved his body on pure instinct rather than thinking logically—years and years of fighting made his body respond to any threat by acting first.

It’s to the concerned and angry looks of Felix and Rodrigue that Glenn wakes up to, suddenly aware that he isn’t supposed to be the source of their worry but he keeps doing it. He blinks slowly.

“Are we...”

“We set up camp after our victory,” his father answers calmly, though there is evident relief in his voice.

“You’re damn lucky you’re fast, you idiot!” Felix screams, and if he wasn’t bedridden Glenn is sure he’d have been pounced on.

The distinct memory of a knife being driven into his chest comes back to Glenn, and he groans. Yeah, that happened, and now that he remembers it hurts like hell.

“Is Dimitri okay?” he asks.

“The boar is fine,” Felix mutters, still aggravated. “That’s what I was talking about. You could have died because you follow your stupid values of chivalry when we need you alive and not dead, asshole.”

“Felix,” Rodrigue lightly scolds.

“Don’t you dare say I’m wrong. The boar was clinging to the dead and spouting bullshit about fulfilling their wishes, and everyone in this fucking country glorifies death and sacrifice like it’s the natural end for a knight.”

Felix isn’t wrong, but he’s not right either. He speaks with his heart, like he always is, so his words lack the nuances that other people see in these same values he despises. Glenn has just woken up and is in mild pain, but he can at least throw in some words of his own before passing out again.

“Fe, you’ll always worry about someone, whether they are following the code of chivalry or not,” he says gently. “Yeah, it sucks. But I promise we’re not throwing our lives away. If we protect someone, that means we believe in what they do. Or we believe in our own values. Like, it’s the same when you’re going against a strong opponent because you’re confident you’ll win, right? That’s about the same thing.”

“Felix, do understand that being a knight is not about sacrifice, it is about serving our liege,” their father adds, softer than he’s ever been. “I deeply apologize again for what I have said in the past, I know it hurt you. I could have phrased it better. However, I do not think it is wrong to follow our beliefs to the end.”

They all have a different definition of being a knight, and they all have different principles they carry within themselves. Glenn can’t force his onto someone who has another view of the world. He closes his eyes, wondering if Felix has anything to say to these two statements, but before he can hear his answer, he’s already falling asleep.

* * *

The second time Glenn opens his eyes, he’s greeted by the rays of sunlight peeking through the flaps of the tent. There is no one at his bedside, though the healers are nearby, nodding off. He’s in less pain but his chest is still aching, and it’s with resignation he expects to be in convalescence for at least two weeks with an injury like that. That’s not ideal in their current campaign, but there is no other option. He tries to sigh but even this motion is burning his lungs and is pulling at his muscles in uncomfortable ways, so he hisses and curses like this will make it better. Goddess, he hates that.

A few hours later, Felix comes again, with a bowl of soup. Glenn raises an eyebrow when he sees him, expecting his father but not his brother.

“He’s busy,” Felix explains, helping him sit up before handing him the soup.

Glenn accepts the food and eats slowly. He can almost see the cogs turning in Felix’s head as he fidgets, arms crossed and fingers drumming on his arm. Glenn would have laughed and teased him, but he’s sure that Felix wouldn’t hesitate to leave the tent forever.

“...You getting injured made the boar finally realize he was doing a mistake by abandoning Fhirdiad.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Glenn says genuinely, smiling. “The Kingdom wasn’t in a good state when we left.”

“Yeah, that’s why we’re retaking the capital.”

Another spoonful of soup is swallowed. Glenn takes his time, stretching the moment they have to let Felix gather his thoughts. He wants to scratch at his bandages, but that’s going to earn him a harsh scolding he doesn’t particularly want to undergo.

“Look, I’m not going to go into another debate with you or the old man about knighthood,” Felix grumbles. “It’s pointless. We clearly don’t see eye to eye, and that’s a waste of time and energy if we try to make each other understand. I stand by what I said; it’s foolish to die a hero when you can protect by living.” Felix pauses, looking briefly at Glenn. “We should let the dead rest. Leave the past behind.”

A long time ago, little Felix had claimed that if he became a knight, he’d never die because he’d be the best—like his big brother. A nice sentiment, but Glenn wouldn’t have let that happen, since he was supposed to be the strongest knight in the royal guard and best among the best. Now, they are both adults and invaluable elements to the army, but their priorities lie elsewhere; the strength they are proud to put on display is used for different purposes. There is something close to satisfaction that’s blooming inside Glenn’s heart as he looks at Felix, and pats his head.

“I know, we don’t have to agree on everything. It’s part of growing up, though I guess you did that all on your own, huh?” He grins, keeping his hand where it is even when Felix starts swatting at it. “I get what you’re saying, but like I said, we believe in different things.”

“That’s not a pass for you to die again.” Felix glares, adamant.

Glenn smirks. “I think I got the memo, this hurts like a bitch.”

If House Fraldarius is proclaimed to be the family protecting Faerghus, then Glenn is the heir to the Shield, while Felix is becoming the Blade; that might not be fine with everyone, starting with the both of them, but this is who they are and they can’t change that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing a Glenn Lives AU but letting Rodrigue die? Not on my watch. Thanks for reading!!
> 
> The next chapter is the last one, since this fic was supposed to be one chapter, one prompt. I really like Glenn so it might not be the last AU I write :)
> 
> / [twitter](https://twitter.com/kornetable)


	7. free - epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is the end! Thanks for sticking with me :) As I said, this is definitely not the last time I will write about Glenn!

In 1186, during the Verdant Rain Moon, the future king of Faerghus claimed victory and struck down the Emperor Edelgard von Hresvelg. Fódlan ceased to be at war and all three great nations were unified under the same banner.

This wasn’t an easy task. King Dimitri appointed many of his friends, who were also war heroes, to high ranking titles and entrusted them with missions to restore peace. Their generation fostered countless knights whose names would be sung for decades, as fearless warriors and principled people.

House Fraldarius acquired even more prestige and renown—the people talked about miracles and blessings from the Goddess for giving back a son to a father and a brother to a boy. Glenn and Felix Fraldarius took post one as a knight in the Royal Guard, the other as a royal advisor, though his swordsmanship never decayed. They were the King’s most trusted men, and they were always in his shadow; sometimes the both of them were present, other times only one of them would accompany His Majesty. The Fraldarius Brothers were made examples of chivalry, trust and perseverance, role models for all siblings wishing to become a pair of knights just as strong and brave as them.

This is the official records of them. They don’t mention that Felix Fraldarius would keep away from the crowd or would scoff at the mere suggestion he’s a true knight. They don’t mention Glenn Fraldarius watching over His Majesty in the late hours of the night, or his tendency to tune out council meetings when he’s standing on guard.

The records do talk about the bond between brothers and how close they were, inseparable even when they were in disagreement. Their already cutting words got sharper and sharper as the years passed, and nobody in the court, not even the King, managed to bridle them. They had difficult personalities and would be unreasonable at times, especially Felix Fraldarius, but their wisdom gained on the battlefield was inestimable and they pulled their weight in their work.

They stood tall together in the back of ceremonies, one as the Shield and the other as the Blade. The rumors were saying that sending the both of them on the same battlefield would be a waste of resources, since their combined forces were equivalent to an entire battalion’s. They maintained a friendly rivalry that inspired many knights to rise to their level.

And in private, when they were not a royal knight or a royal advisor but only two brothers sharing the tranquility of a home, they would catch up. They would exchange pointers and take care of each other, even in roundabout ways, for they had made a promise to remain by each other’s side. Fraldarius men were not considered careful or good with their words, so they showed their concern and their love through actions. Glenn Fraldarius would ask his brother for a spar, while Felix Fraldarius would find unusual recipes for his brother to try.

They didn’t die on a battlefield, like in the chivalry tales. They died of old age surrounded by their loved ones, long after their king, as they kept an eye on the young prince and on the kingdom. They safeguarded their country until their last breath, and it was with honor and contentment they left the world.

* * *

Felix and Glenn – Protectors of the Crown  
Felix and Glenn assisted Dimitri in rebuilding Fódlan, as his knights and friends. Glenn took on the mantle of Duke Fraldarius after Rodrigue passed away, though Felix shared his burden in running their territory. Felix was not the easiest to compromise with in the court, and ambassadors came to be wary of his sharp tongue. Glenn pledged fealty again and became the most respected knight in the Royal Guard. Tales and songs praised the Shield and the Blade of Faerghus for both their strength and their loyalty to the Crown—Fraldarius became synonymous with noble heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated! :D
> 
> / [twitter](https://twitter.com/kornetable)


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